Posts Tagged ‘Geno Delafose’

La Poussiere means “the dust.” The dance hall by this name in Breaux Bridge, LA was so named because the original floor was dirt, so when Cajuns danced a jig, the dust would fly.

Geno Delafose and the French Rocking Boogie sing a song entitled “She Makes the Dust Fly.”

Last night, my husband and I were Zydeco dancing to Geno at La Poussiere.

Twenty years ago, Geno would not have been welcome in La Poussiere. There were strict unwritten rules against black people entering the club. In 1996, The New York Times featured an article about a lawsuit that required La Poussiere to drop its policy and open its doors to black patrons, even on Saturday night. Comments from locals stated that this was the way it’s always been. There was an undercurrent of acceptance of racial discrimination. However, as Breaux Bridge became more of a tourist area, these traditions came in to question.

Today, blacks and whites not only dance at La Poussiere, they often dance together. The cultures are becoming mixed and more accepting. Last night, there was a Cajun man playing the triangle on stage with the all black band.

Yesterday, my friend Tara Smith posted about addressing civil rights issues with her students. She teaches in an affluent, mostly white area. She said, “As I have found in years past, none of my students had ever heard of Emmett Till, a boy not much older than they are, who lost his life to hatred and racism. Few history text books seem to mention Emmett Till, and we can now add the names of Travon Martin and Tamir Rice (to name just two) to our country’s long legacy of racism and the heartbreaking violence it breeds. But, teaching history demands that we seek the truth so that we can do better.”

Teaching demands that we do better. We all need to do better. We need to look at our neighbors as persons worthy of respect and honor whether we are dancing, having a meal, going to church, or driving on the highway.

Dancing and music are great equalizers. We are all comrades enjoying the parade. Turn up the music, hear the beat, and remember always, always to be kind.

A selfie with my friend Sarah as we eat beignets at Festival Acadiens.

This was a weekend to embrace the culture of South Louisiana, along with the crazy heat. I’m not sure if we set records, but the temperatures were blazing while my husband and I introduced friends from Houston to the music and food of our home town. Two festivals complete with Cajun and Zydeco music, gumbo, beignets, and shrimp po-boys. We danced (and ate) all weekend. Our favorite bands are BeauSoleil avec Michael Doucet and Geno Delafose and the French Rockin Boogie. Family was part of the fun, two daughters, a sister-in-law, mother-in-law, and a niece.

I have been going to these festivals for years, but dancing has only been part of them for the last three and a half. Dancing makes all the difference. I feel like I am part of the music, not just a by-stander listener. I am sore and tired, but the kind of sore and tired when you have done something vigorous, life-giving, like hiking or completing a marathon. The music is still playing in my mind.

Maggie, Katherine, and niece Claire pose at the Gumbo Cookoff.

I made a video about dancing this weekend. My husband is the handsome dancer. Be warned: there is one clip where the music comes on suddenly loud.

Eighteen, eleven, seven, two…
This week started with eighteen people, cousins, sisters, a brother, some boyfriends, all celebrating the holiday season and my father’s eightieth year. We ate, drank, laughed, and hugged.

Gibson Cousination

Eleven gathered at my mother-in-law’s table on Sunday evening, another Christmas. My brother-in-law had something sneaky up his sleeve. I opened a Confederate soldier’s hat. My husband opened Swiss chocolate, and my mother-in-law opened Jamaican rum and Irish whiskey. Scott loves researching genealogy. He gathered information about each of our families and created binders for us. What a labor of love! He discovered that one of my ancestry lines leads to Scottish royalty. The reason for the Confederate hat? He told a story of a family who lost a father and son within days of each other in the Civil War. This is the kind of gift that keeps on giving as I learn my family history.

Seven left for another meal, my daughters, one boyfriend, one husband, and one mother-in-law. We gathered left overs. I made tortilla soup. My daughter made lemon squares. Once again good food, laughter, and hugs.

Two of us for New Year’s Eve. We took a selfie before we went out in the cold rain to dance the night away to our favorite Zydeco band, Geno Delafose and the French Rockin Boogie.

I hope you enjoyed family and each other this holiday season. I am leaving you with a video of Geno. Do a little jitterbug to celebrate!

One Little Word 2019

Bayou Song

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I live on the Bayou Teche in New Iberia, Louisiana. I love teaching, poetry, my dog Charlie, my three daughters, and dancing with my husband. This space is where I capture my thoughts, share my insights, and make connections with the world. Welcome! Walk in kindness.

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